


Stirring up a Storm

by ashtraythief



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Blow Jobs, Bottom Jensen, M/M, Manhandling, PWP, Rimming, Sports Metaphors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-06
Updated: 2014-03-06
Packaged: 2018-01-14 18:35:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1276609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashtraythief/pseuds/ashtraythief
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared is the God of Sports and occasionally he gets a little too caught up in his job. His boyfriend Jensen, the God of Weather, is not amused. So when Jensen withholds cold weather during the winter Olympics, Jared must come through for his followers and convince Jensen to give them real winter weather.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stirring up a Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://deirdre-c.livejournal.com/profile)[**deirdre_c**](http://deirdre-c.livejournal.com/)'s [prompt](http://deirdre-c.livejournal.com/518391.html?thread=16549367#t16549367) on her [Winter Olympics Porn Sam/Dean & J2 Comment-fic Meme](http://deirdre-c.livejournal.com/518391.html) and used for this month's [](http://smpc.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://smpc.livejournal.com/)**smpc**. I have taken various liberties with sports and their schedules. But it’s for the sake of the porn, so I guess it’s alright?

 

Jared knew that his passion for the job occasionally got in the way of his relationship. Sometimes he just got so caught up in all the excitement, in all the suspense, and his charges' prayers. And then he forgot things. Things like anniversary dinners, sibling’s holidays, feeding the pet, or just getting milk - the list was rather long.

And Jensen… Jared loved Jensen, but he could get really intense about things like that. When Jensen wanted milk, he needed to get milk. And Katie had to get fed every day at the exact same time. Back during Temistokles’s reign, when the cat had first appeared on their doorstep, Jared hadn’t been a fan, but he’d thought that after a decade or two, the flea bag would die and they would be on their own again. But really, what were two cat infested decades, when it made Jensen happy? To his dismay, the cat had lived on. Two and a half thousand years later, the damn thing was still around, silently judging Jared from whatever perch it chose to throne on - because Katie didn’t sit, she throned. And when Jared had wanted to bring a dog home, that of course was not acceptable, because it would have scared poor Katie. Granted, getting one of Cerberos’s pups might not have been the best idea, but still - it was a matter of principle. Jared had only relented because Jensen had sucked his brain out through his dick that night, including thunder, lightning, and the whole nine yards.

But instead of bitching, Jensen should be proud that Jared took his job so seriously. And it wasn’t Jared’s fault that with the rise of sport’s popularity and importance in the modern era, he was in much higher demand than in the Middle Ages, when people had permanently prayed to Jensen for good weather. They still did that, but Jared was a bit more in demand nowadays. He had his secret suspicion that Jensen was jealous, but he was smart enough not to say that out loud.

So when he couldn’t avert his eyes from the European Champions League’s soccer game and forgot to go into town and get the meat from the butcher’s on the night Jensen’s co-workers were coming over for dinner? He figured he was in for one hell of a bitch fit.

 

When Jensen came home from work a bit late – he worked as a weather man on the local TV station, naturally – and realized Jared had forgotten to run his errands, his face promised the thunderstorm of the century – quite literally.

Jared was only saved by the arrival of Jensen's colleagues and Jensen's desire not to drown them in a downpour. He was still pissed though.

“Really, Jared, I ask you to do this one thing. One thing! I mean, I've given up on you feeding Katinka, not that you ever got it right even when you did, but when I ask you to do something that matters to me, what the hell was more important, huh?”

Jared looked sheepishly to the ground. When Jensen put it like that...

“The Champions League game,” he said quietly.

Jensen arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Real Madrid against that weird German club, Schalke? Really? The game even I could tell you Madrid would win at least twenty to zero?”

“The scores in soccer aren't that high, you're always mixing it up with football.”

“Tomayto, tomahto. Guy running after a ball, it's all the same.”

Jared suppressed a pout, because Jensen was still pissed.

“Look, I'm sorry Jen, but there was a lot of praying going on...” Uh-oh, judging by the look on Jensen’s face, it was _not_ a good idea to bring up his risen popularity, “I just got caught up in it. Really, I’m so sorry. But I know we still have minced meat in the freezer, and your meatballs are to die for, so why don't you just make those?”

Jensen snorted. “You stay out of my way before I make your balls into dinner.”

Jared wisely shut up. If Jensen was like that, there was no reasoning with him.

 

Thankfully, the evening was a raging success – well except for Jensen's boss who was allergic to basil, an important ingredient in Jensen's meatballs – but Jared was on his best behavior, playing the doting boyfriend.

When they went to bed that night, Jensen still turned his back to him.

Jared tried to snuggle up to him, usually with a nice long blowjob he could get back into Jensen's good graces.

“C'mon Jen, I said I'm sorry. Let me make it up to you.”

Jensen huffed. “Jared, you ruined an important event for me. Impressing Mrs. Huffman is quite important if I ever want that promotion. How would you feel if I did that to you?”

“I might be pissed, but I'd still forgive you, because I love you,” Jared said and pressed a kiss to Jensen's neck, continuing to nibble and lick at it when Jensen didn't push him back.

Finally with a groan, Jensen turned around and pressed his half hard dick demanding against Jared's belly.

“If you say so. But I am _really_ pissed.”

Jared grinned and scooted down. “Then I'll just have to be extra enthusiastic,” he said and swallowed Jensen down to the root.

Jensen moaned and buried his hands in Jared's hair. Oh yeah, Jared was so forgiven.

Or so he'd thought.

 

Jared was staring with despair at the screen. Katie was sitting on the window sill and Jared just knew that the damn cat was laughing at him. The opening ceremony of the 2014 Winter Olympics in Sochi was in full swing, but despite the weather forecast, there was still no snow. That alone wouldn't have been a problem, Putin had put more than enough money into the games, Jared was sure he had a few extra snow machines he could scrounge up. Jared was still pissed that he'd managed to miss meddling with the Olympic committee so the games would go to a different city – he had half a mind to reveal himself to his followers, boyfriend included – but the World Darts Championship had held all his attention (Phil Taylor was quite the believer). At least Putin wouldn't shy away from a few extra thousand rubel to make the snow happen.

Unfortunately, snow wasn't the only problem. Currently, it was 62° Fahrenheit in Sochi. 17° Celcius. Way too warm for any kind of winter games, except the indoors. Thankfully, the speed skating was one of the first events, but all the other outdoor competitions would be disastrous in this kind of weather.

And all during last week the forecast had predicted rather cold weather, Jared didn't know how they could've been so wrong… Thank the referees, his boyfriend was the god of weather, so he’d be able to save Jared and his games.

 

Jared hurried outside. Jensen was lounging on a garden chair, reading a book. The sun was shining, only a few clouds were flitting across the sky. Jensen was in a good mood then.

Jared kneeled down next to his chair and started doodling meandering patterns on his arm until Jensen would look at him. In the three thousands years – give or take – they'd been together, Jared had learned not to interrupt in the middle of a paragraph if he wanted something from Jensen. Although right now, it was really difficult to wait, time was of the essence here.

“Jared, you're basically vibrating,” Jensen finally said, not taking his eyes of his book, “what's going on?”

“I need snow,” Jared blurted out.

“What?”

“Well, Sochi needs snow.”

Jensen turned a page. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

Jared huffed. “The Olympics, Jensen! They're in Sochi this year and there's no snow even though there was supposed to be snow, the weather forecast must've screwed up and now you need to help me!”

“Well,” Jensen said slowly, eyes glued to the pages, “you should've made sure they wouldn't have the games in Sochi at this time of the year. The weather is supposed to be snowless now. Besides, Sochi? Olympic games in Russia? Now that’s a testament to our love right there.”

Jared wanted to bang his head against something. “I know! Don't you think I don’t know that? I mean, we talked about this, with the whole Putin thing and all… I never thought it would get this bad, okay?”

“Uh huh. Or maybe you were too busy with something else to influence the committee's decision where to hold the games.”

Well, there had been that Cheese-Rolling Race...

“I’m really sorry,” Jared said, trying to look as contrite as possible. “I don’t like it either. But I can’t abandon the Olympics because of that. The athletes need my support now more than ever! Please, Jensen, it’s important!”

Jensen snorted. “Jared, if I'd take you seriously, even the games in the fourth German soccer league are important.”

“Well, they are,” Jared defended automatically. “A lot of heart and prayer goes into these games, and since the players don't earn a lot of money, performing well is even more important for them, and-”

Jared broke off, when he saw Jensen's withering stare. Jared's enthusiasm for his job had long been a bone of contention between them, and since Jared wanted something from Jensen, it would be wise not to antagonize him. So he switched tactics.

“Please Jensen,” he said, making his eyes as big as they would go. “It's the Olympics. We need snow and cold weather. Please, baby?”

For a moment it looked as if Jensen would say yes, then he turned back to his book.

“No.”

“No? What do you mean, no?”

“Well, last time I checked the word ‘no’ only has one meaning,” Jensen said off-handedly, as if he wasn't just dooming the single most important winter sports event this year.

“But, but why?” Jared sputtered, not being able to come up with one simple reason why Jensen would deny him. True, he didn't like to help him out too often, he didn't want to mess with natural weather patterns too much, but if it was important enough he always came through.

Well, not the time the Franklin High School Tigers really needed a bout of rain to give them a chance at winning their last game of the season and get them third place in their league, but in hindsight, Jared could see that a high school team's placement wasn't important enough to let it rain in Arizona in June.

“Because it's not supposed to snow in Sochi, that's why,” Jensen said, slightly pissed.

“But the weather forecast said it was supposed to,” Jared said mulishly. They wouldn't predict something that wasn’t supposed to happen.

Something in the way Jensen shifted his eyes... Jared knew his lover and this...

“Jensen, what did you do?”

“Nothing.”

Jared jumped up. “I don't believe it. It's the winter Olympics, Jensen. What could I possibly have done to justify that?”

Every once in a century, when Jensen got really mad at him, he messed with a sporting event dear to Jared's heart. But the Olympics...

“It's the _Olympics_ , Jensen, how could you?”

“I don't give a fuck if it's the Olympics or the second game in the St. Helena little league.”

“But why?” Jared asked again.

For the first time Jensen looked at Jared, and his usually bright green eyes were dark and stormy. “Because everything, no matter if it's the Olympics or a fucking little league game, is more important than I am!”

Okay, so sometimes Jared got a bit caught up in his job, but Jensen should also know that he was more important to Jared than any sporting event could ever be. After all, Jared had gone toe to toe with Zeus and had to challenge Hercules to a wrestling match back in the day, just so that he could go on a date with Jensen uninterrupted.

“Jen, baby, I love you. There is nothing more important in my life than you.”

If looks could kill, Jared would be a tiny pile of ashes right now. Apparently this argument had been brewing for a while.

“You say that now,” Jensen said, voice blizzard cold, “but it would be nice to see it every once in a while.”

“Of course, Jen, whatever you want,” Jared said and nodded eagerly. “We can go to dinner in that nice Vietnamese restaurant you like so much. Or we could have a romantic evening here? Just the fireplace, the bear rug and the two of us?”

Jared smiled his most inviting smile, the one with one dimple showing and leaned forwards on his arm so he could flex his triceps. In a situation like this, he had to use whatever advantage he had.

“Fine,” Jensen said haughtily. “Dinner first and then you can give me a massage.”

Jared nodded eagerly. He'd learned from the best sports therapists in the world, Jensen would be putty in his hands.

“I'll make reservations right away. If you can just drop the temperature a bit and give them a bout of snow in Sochi, we're all set, and then-”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jensen interrupted him, eyes blazing like a lightning storm, “this is tied to the condition of me changing the weather in Sochi?”

Jared stood very still, an unnatural state for him, but in a mood like this, Jensen could go off at any second.

“No, of course not,” he said carefully, “but I thought you'd no longer be mad at me and you'd maybe...”

Jensen threw his hands in the air. “I don't believe it. Can't you stop fucking thinking about your stupid competitions for one second?”

Jared's mouth fell open. He put up with a lot from Jensen, and he knew he wasn't always boyfriend of the year, but that...

“Stupid competitions?” Jared roared. “Sporting events are the highest form of human measurement! It's the most elaborate form to pitch the strongest, the fastest-”

“You mean the ones smart enough to dope without getting caught.”

“-the brightest, the _best_ against each other and find excellence! It's about team spirit and support, it’s about honor and fairness, it can bring whole nations together, it brings peace to regions full of war-”

“Tell that to the hooligans.”

“- and it’s one of the biggest industries that generates millions of jobs! And you want to ruin one of the most important events because I don't spend enough time with you?”

“Yeah, well you ruined an important event for me without breaking a sweat!” Jensen yelled at him.

“What, the monthly cumulus beauty pageant?”

Jensen's eyes narrowed to slits. “No, you fucker, I mean the dinner with my boss.”

That made Jared draw up short. “Your boss at the TV station?” That was what this was all about? The dinner for the humans?

“Yes,” Jensen bit out.

Jared couldn't help it. “Jensen, we're gods. We live for eternity. What does one little job mean in the greater scheme of things?”

Jensen's plush lips pressed together into a thin line. “It mattered to _me_. So it should have mattered to you.”

“Jen, I'm so sorry. Really. I didn’t know it was that important to you.”

“Yeah, well, you should have.”

Jared nodded. Jensen was right, he was a terrible boyfriend. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right and I promise, I’ll do better in the future. I'll give you anything you want, anything, just please not Sochi.”

Jensen stared at him, still very angry.

Jared tried, “I won't watch ESPN for a week.”

No reaction.

“Two?”

Jensen didn't even blink.

“Alright, no watching sports, on any channel, for a month!” Jared exclaimed, throwing up his hands.

Jensen raised one eyebrow.

“And I won’t talk to you about sports, at all,” Jared promised. “Not even in sports metaphors or baseball jokes.”

Jensen raised another eyebrow and Jared drew in a deep breath.

“And I will not consume sports results in any form in your presence. I mean, I still have to check, it's my job, but you won't notice at all. When we're together, my attention is a hundred percent on you.”

Jensen tilted his head, still skeptical.

“We'll go out for dinner, massages and footrubs, and how about I finally fix up that garden swing?”

Jensen still wasn't smiling and Jared was getting desperate. What else could he offer? He had to save Sochi! And his relationship.

“Blowjobs!” Jared said triumphantly.

“What about them?” Jensen asked, but he was definitely interested.

Jared licked his lips and Jensen's eyes tracked the movement.

“Every morning, to wake you up.”

Even though Jensen tried to hide it, Jared could see the smile tugging at his lips.

“Now we're getting somewhere.”

“Oh, that's only the beginning,” Jared said, letting his voice get deeper, stalking towards Jensen slowly,

Jensen's lips quirked. “Tell me more.”

Jared shot forward, lightning fast – he was the god of sports; strength, speed and excellent reflexes were a given – and scooped Jensen up in his arms.

“How about I show you instead?” he murmured into the skin below Jensen's ear.

Jared sprinted into the house, shooting the scowling cat a gleeful look, ran up the stairs and laid Jensen down on their bed. For a moment he watched him, flushed cheeks and wide eyes, shirt rucked up to expose a light strip of skin, and Jared couldn't believe that he'd been such a bad boyfriend.

His phone vibrated in his pocket then, the alert for sports scores coming in and he stopped his hand just before pulling it out, but Jensen had seen the movement and the corners of his mouth turned down. So Jared did the only sensible thing. He took of his pants and threw them, phone included, into the corner of the room. Under Jensen's hungry eyes, he took off the rest of his clothes and crawled onto the bed, gripping Jensen's ankle.

“How about a bit of atmosphere, Mr. Weather God?” Jared asked playfully and ran his hand up Jensen's leg.

Jensen rolled his eyes, but he smiled at the same time and a gush of wind blew through the room and turned the stereo on.

Jared slowly crawled higher and when he reached Jensen's waist, he pressed a kiss to the exposed strip of stomach. Then he made quick work and opened the buttons of his pants. He didn't pull them down, even though Jensen helpfully raised his hips. Instead, he leaned down and pressed his mouth to the cotton of Jensen’s briefs through the opened jeans.

“Tease,” Jensen said.

Jared shook his head and rubbed his cheek against Jensen’s growing erection. “Just taking my time. Worshipping you like the god you are.”

There was a beat of silence, then Jensen said hoarsely, “Jay, I-”

Jared was up next to him in a flash, silencing him with a kiss. “Don't. You were right, I was an ass. So let me make it up to you.”

When he drew back, Jensen nodded. Jared smiled brightly at him, and kissed him again, this time properly. Jensen moaned into his mouth and his reply was instant, hands gripping Jared's long hair and pulling him down harshly. And while his own body reacted instantly, dick going from interested before, to rock hard now, Jared realized that they hadn't had proper sex in almost a week. They had been so caught up in their jobs, mundane and divine, and the abstinence was noticeable.

His own mouth grew more insistent and his hands ripped Jensen’s clothes off carelessly.

“Shit, it's been too long,” Jensen mumbled and Jared had to agree.

“I'm an idiot,” he said, while he was pulling his own shirt off. Jensen's hands were there to help, then they wandered lower, tugging at his belt.

“We're both idiots.”

“Yeah, but I'm the bigger idiot,” Jared said, helping Jensen with his pants.

Jensen rolled his eyes. “Does everything with you have to be a competition?”

Jared grinned. “No. But I still bet I can make you come more.”

Jensen groaned, but Jared knew he was only playing. And now that they were finally naked, qualifications were over, and the heats could start. Jared just had to be careful not to burn himself out before he’d reached the finish line. If he wanted to go the distance with Jensen he had to save his strength.

Jared got himself into position, sliding between Jensen’s legs, propping his weight up on his elbows and then he could finally kiss Jensen.

With Jensen, it was all about the perfect mixture of speed, strength and technique. Over the centuries Jared had become quite good at it, although he never really mastered getting over the distraction of how Jensen’s lips felt against his own, how Jensen undulated his body against Jared’s and how his hands tugged his hair. Privately, Jared thought it broke all rules of playing fair, how was Jared ever supposed to get a perfect score like this, but then Jensen made that tiny urgent sound against Jared’s mouth and he didn’t care anymore. There was only heat and contact, like the first clash of offense and defense at the line of scrimmage, their shared breath colliding hotly in the non-existent space between their mouths and just for a second, Jared lost sight of his goal. Jensen could do that to him.

Pulling back was hard, because there was nothing Jared wanted more than just to get lost in the feeling of Jensen’s mouth, but he had a goal to achieve. He _really_ had to save Sochi. And his relationship. _Obviously_.

Slowly, he moved away from Jensen’s mouth, trailing his lips along the line of his jaw and then down to his throat. Jensen’s breathing was labored, like he’d just passed the thirteen mile mark during a marathon, but Jared wanted him panting like a horse that had just run the Kentucky Derby.

He bit a line down Jensen’s throat until he reached the point where his pulse hammered under his skin and bit down. His hands were running over Jensen’s torso at the same time, tracing the light groves of his muscles, not bulging and solid like Jared’s who trained every muscle in his body so he could execute every sport ever thought up. No, Jensen was soft in some places, hard in others, broad shoulders and muscular arms, hint of a six pack and strong legs with that adorable bow. Jared had always thought he’d make a damn good baseball player.

When his hand reached Jared's nipple, he slowly rubbed it to hardness and then pinched it harshly, startling a groan out of Jensen.

“Fuck, Jared, c'mon.”

Jensen's voice was already low and rough, but Jared knew he could do better.

“Wanna take my time,” he said quietly, trailing his fingers down Jensen's stomach, along the soft line of hairs there.

Insistently, Jensen just pushed his hips up into Jared's, rubbing their hard dicks together.

“Now, want you now.”

Jared chuckled. “So pushy.” But he obliged and wrapped a hand around Jensen's dick. It was too dry to move much, so he reached lower, cupped Jensen balls and scooted downwards.

Jensen let out a relieved groan when Jared swallowed him down. Jared suppressed a grin and took Jensen down to the root, working his throat around him, not giving him a chance to catch his breath. He moved his head up and down, lips sealed tightly around Jensen dick, and yes, Jared's facial muscles were just as well trained as the rest of his body.

Jensen was cursing a blue streak and the four winds above him, hands shifting between the bedsheets and Jared's hair. He came down Jared's throat with a low shout three minutes and twenty seconds later. What? Jared had a very accurate sense of time. Not his personal best, but definitely a world class time.

Jared slowly let Jensen's softening dick glide out of his mouth, ignored his own erecting and scooted down lower on the bed, hands moving firmly over Jensen's legs until he reached his feet and started to massage them thoroughly.

Jensen stretched like a cat and hummed contently. He wouldn't fall asleep, but he'd definitely doze. Jared contented himself with the view of his flushed and fucked out body and imagined all the things he’d do as soon as he had Jensen's full attention again.

Sochi would be saved. And his relationship, thank fuck.

 

 

Jensen was happily dozing while Jared's strong fingers kneaded his feet. His body was still tingling from his orgasm and it was as if the soles of his feet were hardwired to his back, sending one shiver down after another. His anger was as good as gone.

Mostly anyway. It wasn't like Jensen hadn’t known what he was getting himself into, and if the past three thousand years had taught him anything it was that Jared and him fit like the pieces of a perfect puzzle, and if they had one fight per century, well that only served to keep things interesting really.

Jared was always an attentive lover, strong and energetic, but there way just something about him when he begged Jensen’s forgiveness.

“Jen, please,” Jared said, kissing the spot where his skin stretched thin over the inside of his ankle. “I know I screwed up but it's the Olympics.”

“I know,” Jensen said trying to keep his voice strong, “that's why it's such a great opportunity to teach you a lesson.”

Jared growled, a sound that never failed to make Jensen's stomach muscles clench, and he shot up and with a single move, Jensen was flipped around, lying on his belly and Jared had already worked his way between his legs and was nosing up his spine.

“Please,” Jared said and bit into Jensen's shoulder. “Just a few degrees lower and a tiny bit of snow.”

Jared's tongue traced the shell of Jensen' ear and he needed to draw deep steadying breaths. “No.”

A warm breath fanned over his neck, sending goosebumps down his back when Jared started nibbling on the juncture of shoulder and neck, while his fingertips softly danced down Jensen's flanks.

“Please.”

They had played this games a few times over the centuries, and Jared always won. When he pressed his hard dick into the crease of Jensen's ass though, Jensen knew that there weren't really any losers in this game.

He pushed back into Jared's solid body. “No.”

Jared's hands tightened over his hips, he growled again, and then his mouth wandered down Jensen's spine.

He pressed a kiss to every vertebra, whispering a low _please_ inbetween, hot breath on damp skin and by the time Jared nibbled on the dimple in his spine, Jensen wasn't sure what he was saying ‘no’ to anymore. Jared's strong big hands were kneading his ass, just dancing along where he wanted to feel them the most, and then there was warm air blowing over his hole.

“Jensen. Please?”

Jensen moaned.

“It's the Olympics,” Jared said and his tongue ran down Jensen's crack, swirling around his opening. “Just a bit of snow?”

Jensen arched his back. “No.”

Suddenly there was hot wetness, Jared’s mouth on his opening, sucking and Jensen's whole body spasmed.

“Please. Pretty please.”

Jensen shuddered when the warm air hit his spit-slick skin. Holy thermal winds, he wanted more.

“No.”

Jared pushed his tongue inside and Jensen bit his lip not to scream. Instead, he spread his legs farther, pushed back harder. It didn't matter that he just came ten minutes ago, his dick was hard and throbbing between his belly and the bed, and he really just wanted Jared to give him his beautiful dick and fuck him through the mattress. He didn't only have the strength and the speed, he also had excellent dick-prostate coordination.

Jared's fingers spread Jensen's cheeks farther, allowing him to push him deep and a thick finger joined his tongue.

“I'm begging you here, Jen. Please, anything you want, anything at all.”

And enough was enough. Jensen pushed his hips back shamelessly, no one in their right mind could resist that, and said, “fuck me.”

“Oh, thank fuck,” Jared breathed out and he scrambled up, was kneeling behind Jensen so fast, he hadn't even drawn a full breath and then there was something hot and thick nudging at Jensen's entrance.

“Snow?” Jared asked, hovering just at the edge.

Jensen snorted. “Yes. Just-”

But he didn't get any farther, because then Jared pushed inside. His cock was just as glorious as the rest of his body and he must've lubed himself up, because the glide was smooth and he just sank all the way inside in one fluid move. Jensen was speared open, filled to the brim, pulsing heat deep inside of him.

He let out a moan, and in that short moment where Jared didn't move, held the absolute stillness he only ever achieved before exploding into motion, Jensen directed thoughts to the sky over Sochi and called the clouds.

He could feel them moving, feel them accumulating, getting heavy with humidity and right now only rain would fall, but Jensen reached out and summoned the cold winds.

Jared slowly pulled back, and Jensen directed the whirling air, dropping the temperature slowly, deep enough for the rain to become snow.

When Jared had pulled out so far, the head of his dick caught on Jensen’s rim, he let a shaking hand run across Jensen's back.

“So beautiful.”

Jensen had expected Jared to push inside fast and hard, but he went slow and steady again, making Jensen feel every inch he stretched to accommodate Jared, like he filled him completely. Jared bottomed out, breathing harsh against Jensen’s shoulder.

“So fucking perfect.”

Jensen never told Jared how much this meant to him, that Jared – perfectly sculptured Jared, whose body put even Adonis to shame – praised Jensen so highly.

Then Jared pulled out, only halfway and he pushed back inside so fast, it drove the air from Jensen’s lungs.

This was what he'd been waiting for, Jared moving so fast, that Jensen still felt the pull when Jared was already pushing again, strokes almost overlapping, sensory overload making Jensen's head spin.

He lost his grip on the clouds and the wind, the weather in Sochi just swirling along the periphery of his mind, every thing else filled with Jared. There was just one thing missing, one thing he needed to make this perfect.

He needed to concentrate to make his mouth work, get out the words past his hammering heart beating overtime to supply his body with much needed oxygen.

“Jay, want you – need...”

Jared understood him without words and for a split second Jared drew back, strong hands gripping Jensen's arms and turning him around, and then Jared had already hoisted him up by his thighs, let him slide down on his dick. Jensen let his head fall back in ecstasy and it fell back against the wall.

Then his back hit the headboard and Jared used the leverage to get up on his knees, pressed Jensen against the sturdy leather covering their headboard, and started really fucking him.

Jensen let his hands wander over Jared's broad shoulders, dug his fingers deep into the thick muscle strands, and fuck, he couldn’t get enough. He pulled himself forward to kiss Jared, to suck and chew on his bottom lip, while Jared’s hands pressed bruises into his ass and neck in the best possible way, his dick fucking so deep inside of him, Jensen thought he could feel it in the back of his throat.

Jared kept holding him, like he weighed nothing more than a feather, moved his body fluidly without breaking his stride and Jensen could do nothing more than hold on for the ride when he felt his second orgasm approaching, starting deep in the pit of his belly, and he just managed another kiss tugging on Jared's lips and a bite into his shoulder, before the tension deep inside his stomach exploded and hot lightnings shot through his body, thunder cracking loudly over their heads, while his vision whitened out in that one perfect moment of stormy pleasure.

“Yes, fuck Jensen!” Jared shouted hoarsely into his ear and tensed, coming deep inside of him, while Jensen’s body still shuddered and they collapsed sideways onto their giant bed.

They were both panting heavily, sticking together with sweat and come and spit, but Jensen just scooted closer to Jared, plastering himself against his side.

Jared drew him in tighter, fingers carding through his hair. For a while, they lay in comfortable silence, then Jensen could feel Jared's fingers faltering and he knew his lover's mind had drifted away, back to the games.

“Jen,” Jared said slowly, slightly incredulous, “a blizzard?”

Jensen grinned, although he could feel the tips of his ears slightly heating up.

“What? It’s the weather equivalent of a gold medal.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

comments = champagne showers!

 


End file.
